


Forget-Me-Not

by theladyscribe



Series: Tennessee [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-16
Updated: 2008-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:08:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/pseuds/theladyscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a long time since he’d tried courting a girl – really, he’d only done that once, and Cassie rejected him when he told her the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget-Me-Not

It was almost midsummer. Dean’s favorite time of year. At midsummer, the ghosts could be kept at bay – both the real ones and the ones in his head. Midsummer was vibrance and life and hope.

And Dean had hope. It had been a long time since he’d tried courting a girl – really, he’d only done that once, and Cassie rejected him when he told her the truth. Jo was different from Cass in that respect at least; she already knew what he was and accepted it. Embraced it, even.

Dean planned it quietly; he didn’t tell Sam about it, at least not beyond spending a few days at the Roadhouse. He didn’t mention the upcoming holiday, just that he wanted to do nothing but sit around and play poker and pool and pinball for a few days. He didn’t say that he wanted to see Jo again. He figured Sam knew that, but it didn’t mean he had to say it. Sam had nodded, then said, “Give my regards to Jo,” with a smirk that Dean was fairly certain he needed to trademark so Sam couldn’t use it anymore.

He arrived at the Roadhouse as the sun was setting on midsummer day. Stormclouds were rolling in and lightning flashed across the skyline as Dean pulled up. The air crackled with energy, and he felt more alive than he had in a long while. The rain was light, almost nonexistent, and Dean threw his head back and laughed into the wind. His laughter must have carried, because the screen door of the house opened and Jo stood gaping at the man dancing in the rain.

“Dean Winchester, what are you doing?” she asked him, an eyebrow raised and a smile tugging at her lips.

He grinned and walked toward her. “I’m celebrating, Jo.”

“Celebrating what?” she asked. She was no longer trying to hide the smile, and her entire face lit up.

Dean was on the porch now, rain dripping along the contours of his face. He had backed Jo up against the wall, and she breathed deeply, as if trying to make herself as small as possible. “Celebrating life,” he whispered, his voice soft. He kissed her soundly and suddenly leapt off the porch, back into the rain.

“Dean! Dean, wait!” Jo called before throwing her hands into the air and following after him. “You’re going to get struck by lightning, you know, running around in a thunderstorm like this,” she said when she finally caught up to him.

He laughed and answered, “So what?”

“So, I don’t want to have to drag your crispy-fried ass all the way back to the Roadhouse, that’s what.”

He laughed again, throwing his head back and smiling into the sky. “Then don’t,” he said, putting an arm around her waist and twirling her in the air.

His good humour was infectious, and Jo found herself laughing as well. “Fine then, I won’t,” she told him, her grin betraying the seriousness of her voice. She kissed him on his nose, laughing at the expression on his face. “But tell me, Mr. Winchester, what brings you here? And where is your brother?”

“Sammy’s lying in a ditch somewhere in South Dakota, trying to overcome his binge drinking. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to refill my collection of whiskey bottles, since he’d pretty much emptied all of them.” Jo smacked Dean and he smiled at her.

“Tell the truth,” she said.

“It’s midsummer,” he answered after a moment.

“And?”

“And nothing. That’s why. It’s midsummer, Jo, and it’s the only day of the year that I don’t have to worry about fighting the monsters under the bed.” He shrugged. “I wanted to spend it with you.”

Jo bit her lip and looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really.” He paused. “Also,” he whispered, “I wanted to give you this.” His eyes glittered and he reached into his pocket. Jo looked down at the pendant he placed in her hand. It was a silver forget-me-not, hanging on a leather chain.


End file.
